


Sweet Disposition

by lesliesbknope



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Road Trips, Sunshine - Freeform, all the things, happiness, i don't know how to use this stopping now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesliesbknope/pseuds/lesliesbknope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Most of the time, we escape, and we’re just driving.  And all of this seems so far away because it’s just... it’s just the two of us.” Oliver, Felicity, a grey Porsche, and the road ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I love you more than french fries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indecisively_yours (oliverqueen)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=indecisively_yours+%28oliverqueen%29).



> Um, hi? This is totally my very first OFFICIAL venture into this magical world of Oliver and Felicity fic, and I’m scared as fuck, but whatever, you don’t know until you try right? Anyway, this, ambitiously, will be eleven drabbles/mini fics about their funsies on the road based on a post on tumblr by badass-bookworm (which I am COMPLETELY AND WHOLEHEARTEDLY in love with.) I hope you guys like it! ALSO, this whole series is very much dedicated to my cousin, D, who is graduating college on Sunday, and taking the plunge into a whole new world! I love you and congratulations!

“Felicity.”

He sounded stern and serious, almost annoyed even, but the look on his face let her know he couldn’t be further from any of those things.

And so she dove in once more. Because Felicity Smoak was nothing if not persistent.

The french fry crunched between her teeth, the salt of the fry mixing with the sweet flavor of his chocolate milkshake, and she grinned over at him. “Yes, Oliver?” she countered innocently, reaching out again to steal yet another fry off his plate.

And he chuckled then, his smile wide, dimples on full display, and eyes bright, and Felicity swore to every god out there, it was the lightest she’s ever seen him in three years.

Because this version of Oliver Queen, for once, didn’t have the weight of an entire city, the loneliness only five years of relative isolation could provide, the guilt of secrets intended to protect, or a psychotic Demon’s head out for blood and a ridiculous prophecy resting on his shoulders.

 _Her_  Oliver Queen had chosen joy. He’d chosen her.  _Them._  And more importantly, for the first time in probably eight years, her Oliver Queen had, once again, chosen himself. He was free.

And for someone who knew him in the last three years like she did, that was the biggest and best thing in the world.

“I don’t get why you have to take my fries when you have perfectly good ones on your plate,” he said, sucking the tip of his thumb into his mouth, the bittersweet taste of ketchup mixed with mustard and mayo swirling over his tastebuds.

(“Because if you’ve never had this mix, you’ve never lived!” she’d stressed to which he’d countered:

“We’ve been to Big Belly Burger together at least a hundred times, and this is the first time you’re telling me this?”

“Welcome to the promise land.")

Felicity felt a slight tug low in her belly as she watched him, but ignored it, making a mental note for later to tug him into the alleyway of the diner once they finished eating. Because she could do that now!

She dipped the medium sized fry into his chocolate shake and popped it into her mouth, her tongue darting out to the corner of her lips to catch a drop of chocolate.

Oliver found he wanted to kiss her again.

So he did, because he did that now. He didn’t calculate things anymore, he didn’t doubt himself, he just did things because he wanted to.

(To a certain degree of course.)

Pressing both hands against the table, he leaned over, lips molding over hers.

“Mmm,” she sighed happily, eyes closed. “See, now I know you think that was about you,” she said as he sat back down. “But that was totally this fry.”

Oh, please, Felicity.

Oliver smirked, knowing better than to believe her, before picking up his burger again. “That was more for me than it was for you,” he told her, taking a bite as she stole yet another fry from his place, dipping it in his shake. “And you keep doing that and still haven’t answered my question."

“Because,” she began, chewing slower so he could make out what she was saying. “Despite the fact that stealing, regardless of how much we’ve surprisingly actually come to do it over the last three years, gives me anxiety, as it turns out, stolen food, off your plate specifically, makes it taste so much better.”

He snorted. “With that logic, I’ll pretend I almost believe you and that you’re not just spewing three AM nonsense at me.”

“How  _dare_  you?” she looked indignant as she (finally) picked up her own shake, also chocolate, and took a long sip through her straw. “As if I need three AM and lack of sleep for nonsense. It’s almost like you don’t even know me.”

He laughed again. God, he  _adored_  her. She was just so  _cute_.

He’d been driving for hours (forever, according to Felicity) only making one stop since they left Starling City to watch the sunset off a cliff overlooking the Pacific.

[Note: There was less sunset watching, and more wanting to decipher what Felicity looked like when she came with the sunset on her face.

Let the record show that Oliver “Gargantuan” Queen figured out how to go down on Felicity Smoak in the tiny passenger seat of a tiny, uncomfortable-for-sex Porsche.

He made her come three times before the sun went down,  _AND_  accomplished his quest, because she looked fucking unreal as her body shook beneath his tongue. With his name on her lips, her cheeks flushed and sun-kissed, and her eyes heavy lidded and dazed, she could not look more incredible. (And obscene. Holy shit, Felicity Smoak.)

He didn’t think he’d ever been that turned on in his life. Ever.

That was totally a lie, especially when she returned the favor after regaining enough feeling in her legs.]

After that stop, she’d given up on the battle between the wind and her hair, pulling it up into a messy bun atop her head. She’d lost her jacket (only to pull it back on once they were back on the road because “What the hell, who ever said convertibles were a good idea was  _SORELY_  mistaken.” False. She loved the stupid car, and nearly yelled at him when he tried to put the top up.) and grabbed his hand, refusing to let go for even a second.

As if he was going anywhere without her. Yeah, right.

He’d driven and driven and she’d even dozed off at one point. He let her, because he could only imagine her exhaustion after the weeks they’d had, only waking her when they arrived at this diner, just outside Coast City.

Which put them here, at three in the morning, munching on burgers and fries and milkshakes before they took the road again.

She was so focused on her milkshake that she barely noticed him reaching over to her plate, stealing three fries and popping them into his mouth.

“Hey!” she pouted around her straw.

“You’re right; they do taste better.” He smiled, chewing away.

Felicity rolled her eyes and grumbled, but she was hardly mad at him. She was a little too giddy anyway because she still had to pinch herself seeing him act this way. So carefree, and relaxed, and  _fucking happy_.

Because if anyone deserved happiness, it was the man who’d given up everything expecting nothing in return aside from the happiness of those he loved and cared for most.

And he still had demons, and still had things to deal with, but when you choose your own path, and choose yourself along the way, those things become a hell of a lot smaller.

“I love you."

It came quietly a moment later, and her lips were wrapped around her burger this time when he said it.

Her heart skipped a beat, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say this burger was already killing her like it was meant to, because now her heart was racing. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she returned the sentiment after swallowing, but smile wide across her face.

“I love you, too. More than french fries."

He laughed and her heart soared.


	2. I love you more than innuendos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello! I haven't forgotten! I've just been crazy busy these past two weeks with an epic Taylor Swift concert extravaganza and feels up the wazoo. But I'm here, and should be posting/updating more regularly.
> 
> Thank you SO VERY MUCH to everyone who commented, bookmarked, and sent kudos. You are what keeps this train moving. I hope you've all had a great week!
> 
> Enjoy this little monster. I kinda love it.

Since leaving the diner in the wee hours of the morning, they’d stopped at a motel just off the highway through Coast City both hopped up on coffee and endorphins ( _plenty_  of endorphins thanks to successful  _and thrilling_ , according to Felicity, diner alleyway sex. So good, in fact, that it ended in a victorious double fist pump from her and lots of laughter from Oliver. She’d decided it was her favorite sound on the planet and that she wouldn’t have it any other way).

The place they stopped at was… questionable, for lack of a better term. It was certainly not what he was used to in his, but considering he’d slept on the floor of a jungle for over two years, then spent over five months sleeping on a cot in the cold and wet foundry, finally changed to the hard floor of a cell in Nanda Parbat, it could actually be considered an upgrade in comparison.

It was a tiny, slightly dingy motel room just off the side of the highway on their way down through California, with a too-small bed in the middle of the room, a simple nightstand, and a big bulky TV just across on what was supposed to be the dresser. It was fairly clean though, or looked that way, rather.

“Thank you for stopping; you are a Godsend.  _Do not_  let anyone change you.”

Felicity face planted into her pillow, not bothering with any of her clothes, her shoes, or even her glasses. Oliver chuckled quietly at the sight of her, stepping through the door and setting their bags next to the TV before shrugging off his jacket.

“You weren’t even driving,” he teased, toeing off his shoes and undoing his belt. “And what happened to all the coffee you drank?"

She sat up then, her brow wrinkled as she glared at him. “ _Excuse you._ ” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’m in the middle of a crash."

Oliver just smirked as he walked over to the bed for a kiss, cupping both her cheeks in the process and earning himself a happy sigh from her. "Don't be grumpy; I know you're tired," he muttered against her lips before dropping another to her forehead.

“We’ve had a long and exciting three days, okay?” Felicity turned toward the edge of the bed so he was standing between her legs and gripped his shirt, tucking her fingers against the sides.

“I know we have.” He looked around the room. “This place kinda sucks."

“It was close, it has a bed, and a shower, and you, and that’s all I need right now.” He tapped her nose and kissed the top of her head, but she tilted her head back and away from his mouth. “Don’t do that, it probably smells.”

“What?”

“My hair."

“It doesn’t?” Oliver quirked a brow. “Why would it smell? You washed it two nights ago.” He carefully pulled off her glasses, folding them up and setting them against on the nightstand while she toed off her shoes, letting them fall at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, but I’ve been sweaty since,” she grumbled, sliding her hands down his sides and under his shirt once he came back to her. She pushed the grey fabric up and away and he met her half way, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. “And we technically haven’t showered since we left yesterday, so I’ve been extra sweaty, and it’s hot everywhere, and despite all the wind in the car and the air-conditioning now, it doesn’t mean I’m not sweating.”

She leaned forward and dropped a trail of kisses over the vertical tattoo of Chinese characters along his right oblique, and he couldn’t help his smile.

(Or the slight tugging he’d tell her about in a bit; not that she wouldn’t figure it out on her own. He seemed to be in a permanent state of half-hardness from the moment he stepped into her apartment the night before they left, and she’d been more than appreciative over the fact that it wasn’t take much. She even seemed proud of herself)

"And on top of that we keep stopping for sex every couple of hours and so there’s no way we aren’t sweating then. Among other things.”

He looked amused, twirling a lock of her unruly hair around his index finger. “So, bottom line is, you’re sweaty? And we’re having lots of sex?”

Felicity laughed, throwing her head back. “You’re in love with a horny, sweaty person. Congratulations, you’ve hit the jackpot.” She smiled up at him and he leaned down and kissed her, lips lingering on hers until he was smiling too big to continue.

It still struck her that they could talk about being in love so openly and so freely. She was legitimately awestruck by it because they'd spent the better part of the last two years dancing around the topic and avoiding what was so clearly in front of them.

And god, she was quickly realizing just how easy it was to acknowledge it and accept it and just completely enjoy it. She honestly wished they’d done it sooner.

Then again, sooner wouldn’t have given them this.

Oliver grinned. “Thank you, I couldn’t be happier. Overactive sweat glands, sex drive and all. Though I’m getting the impression you see these as bad things.”

Felicity’s fingers slipped into the hem of his jeans, her thumbs undoing the button. “Okay, not _totally_ bad things, do you know the kick I get out of watching you work out? I mean, of course you do; it’s never been a secret.” She shook her head and he watched intently, trying to keep is cool as he anticipated her next move.

“As for the sex drive part, well…” she trailed off, tugging at the stretchy waistband of his boxers with her left hand and slipping her right inside, taking him in her hand with a slow stroke. “We kind of have a lot to make up for and it feels really, really, _really_  good having you inside me, and by you I mean you and by me I mean, well, me, and—“ she laughed at herself and leaned forward to kiss below his belly button, this time her tongue darting out as she trailed lower. "I am _so_ glad this innuendo thing doesn’t have to be weird anymore…”

His grip on the lock of her hair in his hand tightened just slightly, and she smiled again, but didn’t look up at him. “ _Felicity_."

“Shutting up.” She let go of him just to tug him closer by his belt hoops before pushing his jeans over his hips, and down his thighs.

“No, don’t shut up. Keep talking.” His other hand came over to help her, but she nudged it away and went back to the task at hand, literally, tugging his boxers down next. “You’re unbelievable,” he said.

“Me? What about you?” she returned, smiling proudly at the sight before her. "I will never _not_ be impressed,” she told him. “Mind blowing. Ha, blowing. Get it, because I’m about to blow your mind. Ha, there I go again.”

“Holy shit, Felicity.” Oliver didn’t know whether to laugh at how cute she was or cry at how much the feeling of her warm breath over his length was turning him on, and how very little he’d probably last, even without her touching him if she didn’t do something right away.

“You’re telling me.” She rested both hands on his hips. “Hey,” she said, looking up at him and it took him a moment to focus, but he managed to look away from her mouth and meet her eyes. Her eyes were bright, and happy, and excited, and her face was covered in every emotion she’d felt the last three days. “I love you,” she told him, smile still present on her lips, as her thumbs traced over the V of his hipbones. “You make me incredibly happy.”

And he almost got to reply, to stop her so they could share this, because she had to go ahead and say something that was just... _so much..._  but then she’d ducked her head and taken him into her mouth and his eyes rolled back and he was a lost cause. In between moans and grunts and gentle tugs to her hair, he managed an infinite amount of ‘I love yous’, before she proceeded to ride him into oblivion until they both passed out from overexhaustion. Jackpot indeed.

—

They spent the rest of the day avoiding the light of day and the rest of the world in favor of each other and Oliver figured out all the ways to make Felicity tick.

(Apparently there was a spot behind her neck, just beneath her hairline that made her entire body quiver and she’d _literally_ cried out and melted into him.

He’d grinned like the cheshire cat, finding a second over her hip bone, and another behind her knee.)

After a long shower, they changed into more comfortable clothing, packed their belongings opting to head back on the road again. They had a bunch of ground to cover and places to visit and honestly Coast City could wait.

They stopped for a couple of boxes of pizza to go though, because Felicity, despite having spent the last five years of her life in Starling, had never had Coast City pizza, even after hanging out with Barry for so long. So at his insistence they got a two boxes for the road, and she literally swooned at her first bite, making him promise that whenever they made the trip back, they’d have to stop for more. (“It really is the best in the west, oh,  _my god_.”)

The following stop had been San Francisco, driving through the Golden Gate Bridge later that night with the top down. She insisted they stop for pictures and caught a few good ones of them together with the bridge in the background, including Oliver’s first _official_ selfie.

(“How did Thea never make you take a selfie? I almost don’t believe you."

They’d sent it to Thea, along with a cheesy one with the ‘You are now entering San Francisco’ sign, and a nicer one of the two of them with the bay and the bridge in the back.

And Thea had sent a sheet of little heart emojis with words of how much she missed them along with “Ollie, it’s practically nighttime in these. why are you wearing sunglasses?")

Felicity laughed at him and they continued their drive through, checking into a motel again, before heading back out on foot to explore what was left for the evening. They stopped a Mexican spot, shared homemade tacos and quesadillas, and downed a bunch of different fruity margaritas.

“Oh, no, I’m _drunk_.” Felicity slurred after they’d paid and headed out.

Oliver chuckled. “ _Lightweight_.”

She stuck her tongue out, but that had been a process altogether. “You know what?” she wagged her finger at him, but never finished her train of thought. He bumped into her as they turned onto the sidewalk. “You mocked me,” she gasped. “But you’re _totally drunk_ , Oliver Queen!”

He tugged her into one of the alleyways. “Shh, stop yelling, you’ll wake the neighbors!” 

“We’re outside! We don’t have any neighbors!”

He backed her up against the wall and smiled. “Felicity,” he hissed, his voice a loud, breathy whisper. “Why are you yelling?”

And she laughed and stood on her toes and kissed him. “Because you are,” she muttered against her mouth. “You’re so loud. You’ve never been this loud!”

“Stop yelling.” A hearty laugh bubbled from his chest.

“ _Make me_."

(How they made it back to their motel in one piece that night was a mystery, but apparently he made her all right. In the alley and in their room. Over and over _and over again_ )

—

The following morning, after some _much_ needed rest, Oliver woke to a post-it note stuck to his forehead, an empty bed, and an even emptier motel room.

For a moment he had to wonder where the hell she got a post-it note from, but then he recalled that this was Felicity Smoak, and she was always prepared for everything, even when it seemed like she wasn’t, so he didn’t dwell on it for too long.

Instead he pushed up from his face down position in the bed, and groaned at the pounding in his head. No wonder he’d given up tequila in general. Rolling onto his back, he blinked up against the brightness shining through the curtains before pulling the bright pink note off his face to read.

‘ _Fetching us some coffee. Don’t worry, I didn’t take the car because **somebody** refuses to teach me to drive stick. Not that stick. The other kind. Anyway. Love you! —F., x_’

She managed to ramble in a note. A fucking note. His heart skipped a beat, feeling so stupidly happy just then. Being  _this_  in love was incomparable for Oliver. He’d never felt anything like it. And, well, he kind of loved it and never wanted to face life without feeling like this. _Ever_. 

He’d probably tell her this at some point, but there was a moment back in Nanda Parbat, even if he wasn’t completely brainwashed, where he thought he’d never actually make it home at all. He was so set on having to defeat Ra’s and end all of that once and for all, and so convinced that doing so would mean he wouldn’t get to come home as he’d wished, especially if his plan failed. And yes she had an idea of that, but she still didn’t know just how much hope he’d lost in the darkest of hours. (Especially after watching her call after him during that fateful night in Starling City and being unable to do anything about it)

He never thought he’d get to be here, like this, with her. And now, that they were here, he still had to pinch himself every now and again. But he’d been so stupid to think that any of this was so unreachable when all it had taken was an ‘I want to be with you.'

“You’re awake!” Felicity’s voice brought him out of his reverie.

Oliver glanced over and smiled. “I’m awake."

She looked fresh, her still wet hair giving away the fact that she’d showered and washed her hair before she left. She was dressed in a pair of denim shorts that made her toned legs look a mile long, and her ass look out of this world (she would be the death of him. of that he was certain now. Not the League of Assassins, not man-made earthquakes, not an army of super soldiers, but tiny, tough, smart, bubbly, and excitable Felicity Meghan Smoak), and a t-shirt, without a hint of makeup on her face, or her glasses for that matter.

“I brought you aspirin. And coffee. And if you make any sort of commentary about it, I’ll dump it out the window.” He smirked. “Oh and doughnuts. And bagels.” Felicity set the cardboard cupholder on the nightstand along with another bag that held said doughnuts and bagels, before kicking off her flip-flops and crawling on the bed over him, knees digging into the bed on either side of his chest. “Morning,” she smiled, leaning in to press her lips to his.

He chuckled against her mouth, voice still heavy and hoarse with sleep. “Morning,” he mumbled, wrapping both arms around her and kissing her cheek as he fell back against the pillow. “You smell fantastic. How the hell are you this peppy? My head’s about to explode. Fuck tequila.”

“Watch what you say about my friend tequila,” she warned, returning his kiss to her cheek. “And this is the work of a shower. Ever heard of one of those?” She wrinkled her nose, even if he didn’t smell at all.

“You’re hilarious."

She kissed his chin and pulled back, settling her weight into the cradle of his hips, only to straighten slightly. “Oh, hello.  _Someone’s_  awake.” She looked down between her legs before looking up at him, crossing her legs indian style.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“Hardly surprised. No pun intended.” He snorted and she grinned again, resting both hands on his chest. “Breakfast first and then we’ll play.”

“Fine.” She nudged his chest and slid back a bit—

(He raised a brow.

“Sorry!”

She wasn’t sorry)

—so he could sit up and back against the headboard, blankets falling into his lap. “What time is it?” he asked as she grabbed her cup.

“A little after twelve thirty.” She scooted up closer to him so they were chest to chest and he wrapped an arm around her. “So this is lunch, technically."

“I can’t tell you the last time I slept this late,” he told her as she took her first sip

She raised her free arm in victory. “I sexed you to sleep and knocked you out.”

Oliver laughed out loud, head tapping back against the headboard. “ _Felicity_.”

“Don’t ruin this for me,” she bit down on his chin. "This is a humongous win. As are you.” She winked and h e laughed harder and then his lips were on hers again. She set her coffee back down as he unbuttoned her shorts and pulled her back under the covers,

[Okay so maybe the breakfast (or lunch, rather) involved coffees getting cold and bagels and doughnuts forgotten on the nightstand, but the alternative proved to be  _so much better._ ]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading. Keep an eye out on the next one! And should you feel so inclined, drop a comment below!


End file.
